


Everyone's Memory Is Snow

by Mephilia_Venus



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Crimson Flower Route, F/F, Snow, if this game will do no more than acknowledge in passing Edelgard's ptsd then i will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27394042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mephilia_Venus/pseuds/Mephilia_Venus
Summary: On the first snow of the season, Byleth and Edelgard exchange memories.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 3
Kudos: 76





	Everyone's Memory Is Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quoththegayven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quoththegayven/gifts).



> thank you to quoththegayven on tumblr for the prompt idea!

“Winter is not my favorite season,” Edelgard admitted, closing the distance between herself and Byleth in a manner that could be seen as only a practical search for warmth.

Byleth knew better, and she twined a careful arm around Edelgard’s waist. It was night, and they were alone, with most of the Black Eagle Strike Force celebrating on the newly-reclaimed Myrrdin Bridge. While even Hubert had been persuaded to join the revelry by Ferdinand and Dorothea, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for the emperor and her tactician to remain behind in further conference.

It was like this pull between Byleth and Edelgard was new all over again, and Byleth wasn’t sure which of them was testing the waters now. Perhaps it was the both of them.

In the weeks since Byleth’s awakening and return to Garreg Mach, there had of course been nobody happier for it than Edelgard. But after that first morning in the Goddess Tower, the displays of vulnerability which Edelgard let show - to anyone, not just Byleth - had dwindled to invisibility.

Byleth understood part of it, like looking into a mirror that reflected a much grander scale. As a professor, she had been the same, and that was only with a handful of students to contend with. Leading an army, a revolution, was the undoubtedly more daunting task. In this moment of a first real victory, this simple lean might have been Edelgard warming to the idea of it herself.

“Why is that?” Byleth asked, her breath clouding in the air.

Edelgard focused her gaze on the bonfire that the others had constructed on the bridge, her eyes gaining the same distant look that Byleth had seen in them over five years before. “In the dungeons beneath Enbarr, it was always cold. Freezing, no matter the time of year. And my family’s torment down there was stretched over seasons. So, in a sense, winter was not any worse than summer. But the cold is always the first thing that I remember. At a certain point, not even they could find ways to keep reinventing the pain. The cold found its way in every day and night, though.”

While Edelgard still didn’t name the ones responsible for her torture and the deaths of her siblings, Byleth had her strong suspicions, ever since first seeing the way that Edelgard interacted with her uncle. Army politics be damned, Byleth hadn’t been able to stop herself from divining ways that Lord Arundel might find himself permanently inconvenienced. Perhaps from life. Theoretically, of course.

But Byleth doubted that what Edelgard wanted to talk about right now was Lord Arundel. “And it is a pity,” Edelgard continued. “Before then, in happier years... I always looked forward to the first snow of the season. Once, it came as early as the Wyvern Moon. My father’s advisors grumbled about what a harsh winter it surely heralded, but all I cared about then was rushing out to the courtyard with my brothers and sisters, building snow forts and dividing ourselves as the knights to guard them.” For a moment, a small smile curved Edelgard’s lips upwards, something so rare that Byleth’s eyes went right to it despite the darkness of the cloudy night. Then Edelgard sighed, “How were any of us to know that it would be the last time?”

The recollection stirred a memory of Byleth’s. “I remember that year, too,” she said. “My father’s mercenary band made for Alliance territory during the colder months. We nearly got snowed in right around here, actually. One more valley over, and you could probably picture us, waking in the morning to find a blanket of white that wasn’t supposed to arrive for another moon over our camp.”

“That does sound unpleasant,” Edelgard conceded.

“Unpleasant?” Byleth shook her head. “My father’s laughter was what woke me. I remember him saying to the others, ‘See? Even the Goddess had too much to drink last night!’ And it was so hard to be upset if he wasn’t.”

Edelgard lifted her eyes to Byleth’s. “Do you still miss Jeralt?”

She nodded. It was strange, how a memory that had been happiness for so long could suddenly be filtered through heartache. Byleth hadn’t been able to conceal all her grief from the Black Eagles, but Edelgard alone had born witness to the worst of it. They were alike, in that way.

A flicker of white fell in the corner of Byleth’s vision, and she looked up with a small exclamation. “Well,” she grinned. “All this talk of snow must have summoned some.”

“Indeed,” Edelgard noted with a raise of her brows. “I believe this might be the most I’ve ever heard you talk, in particular.”

Byleth couldn’t be offended by the truth. “Maybe my father’s ghost is possessing me.”

Edelgard held out a hand, letting several flakes drift into it. “Well, that won’t do. The dead ought to stay dead, no matter how dear,” she murmured, looking down at the snow as it melted in her palm. “It’s strange. Now, part of me feels sorry for the snow.”

Byleth watched the water drip from Edelgard’s fingers, surely ice cold, yet Edelgard didn’t flinch. “Why is that?”

“People call it beautiful as it falls,” Edelgard said. “And the snow doesn’t know any different. It has no idea what will become of it when it reaches the ground. Those same people track through it, mix it with the mud until it’s unrecognizable. Or there are those like me, who regret the idea of staining it with blood - but we do it, all the same. And who cares for the snow then, when it is no longer innocent?”

Tentatively, Byleth lowered her head, breathing in the scent of Edelgard’s snowy hair. She heard Edelgard’s intake of breath, but Edelgard did not pull away. They remained still for several moments, flakes of snow catching in the green of Byleth’s hair, pattering the fabric of Edelgard’s scarlet cloak. “I don’t know,” Byleth finally admitted.

_But I care for you._


End file.
